


Telling Tales

by fallen_arazil



Series: Sex and Cigarettes [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, D/s, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mouthy Bottom John, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Top Arthur, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-31 21:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18322742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_arazil/pseuds/fallen_arazil
Summary: Just another of my J/A dirty-talk rough-sex fics. You know, the ush."You grab me like that again, boy," Arthur said lowly, "and I'm'a fuckinghogtieyou."





	Telling Tales

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what's got into me lately. I swear I'll stop spamming y'all's inboxes soon.
> 
> And, uh ... bear in mind that pretty much everyone in this fic is intentionally terrible. It's that kind of fic.

Tessie didn't really get along with the women in the camp, for obvious reasons, but she was always meanest to Hannah, who seemed her exact opposite. Tessie was loved by the boys and hated by the girls, especially despised by Grimshaw—and Hannah was Grimshaw's favorite, always given the least unappealing chores and first pick of new clothes, and meanwhile largely ignored by the menfolk—even by Uncle, who'd brought her in in the first place. Hannah was what some folk might charitably call a _sturdy_ woman, nearly six foot and _wide,_ and while that was all right for some, apparently none of those at camp lately were interested.

It had come to a head that morning over Arthur, of all things—Arthur who was the only one of the menfolk that rarely, if ever, sampled the ladies' wares, who getting into bed was apparently some kind of _achievement,_ one that Tessie hadn't made yet.

"Well of course he wouldn't sleep with _you_ ," Hannah said primly, tossing her long hair haughtily. "Arthur is a _gentlemen_ and _you_ are a _slattern_."

"Well I guess we know why he wouldn't fuck _you_ ," Tessie drawled in reply, blowing smoke obnoxiously into Hannah's face, "because who would want to stick their dick in your _fat cunt—_ "

Hannah was at least sixty pounds heavier and five inches taller than Tessie. When she lunged for the smaller woman, Tessie went down _hard,_ hair flying.

John took a step back to avoid getting run into at the knees as the two women rolled in the dirt, holding his stew bowl a little higher, but otherwise didn't intervene. Cat fights were not his area or his problem. Joshua, on the other hand, immediately went to try to pull them apart—desperate to play white knight to Tessie while at the same time, not actually willing to risk hurting Hannah, or maybe more likely, Hannah hurting _him_.

It was Miss Grimshaw who finally kicked them apart, slapping them both. "I'd expect this outta you, Miss Thurgood, but I really am surprised at _you,_ Hannah," she sniped. "You're both peeling potatoes for the next week—and if I see one'a the boys doing it for you, Miss Thurgood, both you _and_ they are getting your cigarette allowance cut in _half_."

"Oh, but Miss Grimshaw, my _hands_!" Tessie immediately wheedled. "I'd cut the heck outta myself, you don't want blood on your potatoes, do you? I'm _much_ better at other things, _any_ of the boys will tell you!"

"That so?" Miss Grimshaw asked, looking down her nose at her. "Arthur, _you_ tell me—what is Miss Thurgood so much better at?"

Because Arthur had watched the whole thing from where he was leaning in the shadow of the awning, eyes narrowing when his name came up, annoyed. Tessie seemed to startle when she realized, turning over her shoulder to throw him big, innocent does eyes.

"Oh, Susan, I wouldn't repeat the things I heard she's good at in front of a lady like yourself," Arthur drawled back. "And I wouldn't really know for myself, as we've just heard in front'a the whole goddamn camp."

" _Pig_ ," Tessie snapped at him as she stormed off, which was rich outta her. Arthur just laughed, but Joshua was eyeing him strangely now, his expression thoughtful—or as thoughtful as a blockhead like Joshua could be, anyway.

"It is funny that you ain't had her, though, if she wants you, Morgan," he said slowly. "I mean … you ain't some kinda queer, are you?"

Arthur's posture didn't change, but John knew him well enough to see his eyes go flat and dangerous. Some of the other men did, too, the group around the fire going quiet and still. "You drunk, Miller?" Arthur asked slowly.

Joshua could clearly feel the temperature drop, but he was a dumb hothead, always had been. "I'm just sayin', who turns down an offer like 'at?"

Arthur scoffed, standing straight and uncrossing his arms. "Even if I were hot for bein' her eighth of the evening, I doubt a little girl like that could _handle_ me. I prefer someone I ain't likely to _break in half_."

He glanced at John when he said it, too quick for anyone else to see, and John felt a vicious shiver run down his spine.

"Now _Hannah_ ," Arthur continued, as if the look never happened, "she's a real _woman_."

Hannah, still on the other side of the fire, preened a bit at that, while trying to look like she wasn't, lips pouted, until Mac jeered, "She's about a _two_ women if you ask me!"

"No one _did,_ Mac Callandar!" She snapped. She was taller than Mac, broader too, which was made more obvious when she stepped up to tower over him. For all that she was trying to intimidate, she also looked on the verge of tears.

Mac scoffed. "When'd you get so goddamn _delicate_ , then? It was just a little _joke_. Maybe if you were a bit more delicate with the way you _looked—_ "

" _Enough_ ," Arthur cut him off. "We ain't a buncha damn jackals, show some _civility_."

After a moment, grudgingly, Mac offered a muttered apology rather than provoke Arthur's ire. Arthur nodded briefly in approval, reaching for his hat on the table. "Well then, if everyone's done with their _temper tantrums_ , I'm goin' for a walk. Hannah," he added, as if an afterthought, "you're welcome to join me."

John could have sworn he heard shouts an hour later, pretty loud to be heard from so far away.

*

"So," John drawled later that evening, when they were the last two at the fire, passing a cigarette between them, "was all that about rubbing it in to Tessie that you ain't never gonna fuck her, or about proving you ain't a queer?"

"Maybe I just wanted a fuck," Arthur said, sounding bored.

John narrowed his eyes, not quite a glare. "That ain't it, 'cause I know you got better options."

"So _you_ think," Arthur replied with a smirk, "but you ain't even asked me how good a fuck she _was."_

John knew a challenge when he heard one. "Fine. How was she then? Did she like your hand on her _throat_? Did she want you to call her a _dirty whore_? Did she _scream_ when you fucked her—?"

Arthur tackled him to the dirt with a growl, pressing his left hand into the dust beside John's hip, trapping him between Arthur's arm and the log, and fisting his right hand in John's hair and yanking it to the side, pressing his mouth up against John's ear. "Oh, Johnny," he growled, making John shiver, "she was so fucking _wet_ inside, all it took was one kiss and one finger to have her _dripping_ , she was so fucking _hot_ for it."

" _Fuck_ ," John hissed, picturing it—not Hannah, but some faceless woman, up against a tree with Arthur's huge hand up her skirt. His rough-calloused fingers rubbing against her slit.

And then it was _him_ up against the tree, in his mind eye, Arthur's fingers up inside him, the way they had been the other night—rough and spit-slick. He bared his teeth into Arthur's shoulder as he rutted up against Arthur's hip. Arthur must have been in his goddamn head, because he seemed to just _know_ exactly where John's mind was, twisting to grind his thigh up against John's cock painfully hard.

"You shoulda heard the noise she made when I put my dick in her, Johnny, like it was _killin'_ her. And she weren't even as tight as you were when I had my fingers up inside'a _you_."

"You goddamn—" John grunted, going to put his hands in Arthur's hair, leaning over for his mouth, but Arthur suddenly shook him off and got to his knees, then his feet, while John panted in the dirt, confused.

"Get off your ass, John," Arthur grinned, sounding only the slightest bit out of breath, "let's go for a walk."

Arthur grabbed a groundsheet and a lantern from his caravan as he passed it, leaving John to stumble to his feet behind him, having to nearly jog to catch up as Arthur disappeared into the forest. Arthur didn't wait, John chasing the flickering lantern light like a ghost. When he finally caught up Arthur had hung the lantern on a tree branch, throwing the groundsheet out onto the ground.

It was the most premeditated it had ever been, between them, and John suddenly felt awkward as he stepped into the circle of lantern light, his previous arousal having waned during the chase, his dick only half-hard.

Then Arthur looked over at John, eyes flickering in the lantern light, and said, lowly, " _Knees_ ," and John was in the dirt before he even fully heard the word, hard as fucking stone.

Arthur laughed, meanly, as he sauntered over towards John, hands working the buttons of his trousers. "You're so fucking _easy_ , Marston. You don't think _Hannah_ woulda dropped like that if I told her, do you?"

"Don't think Hannah would choke on your dick if you told her to, either," John challenged, eagerly watching Arthur's fingers.

"Mm. Probably not," Arthur agreed, pulling his cock out through his fly, tanned hands dark against the red flesh. "I guess you ain't much of a _lady,_ are you, Johnny?"

John flushed angrily and grabbed Arthur by the hips to pull him closer, getting just the tip of Arthur's prick on his tongue before Arthur knocked his hands away, giving John a stinging slap across the cheek.

"You grab me like that again, boy," Arthur said lowly, "and I'm'a fucking _hogtie_ you."

John's hand flew up to his cheek, the skin burning. His hips arched up against nothing, denim pulling tight, but he knew better by now than put his own hands there. "Let me guess," he said, glaring, as he fisted his other hand in the thigh of his trousers, " _yes_ , _no_ , and _please_?"

"If I didn't know better," Arthur murmured, his eyes going lidded as he wrapped his hand in John's collar, "I'd think you were sayin' I was _boring_ you."

Then he yanked John, one-handed, off of his knees and threw him face down onto the groundsheet.

John caught himself on his hands, dizzy at the reminder of how goddamn _strong_ Arthur was. Arthur was behind him in a moment, shoving John's face down into the sheet, his thighs pressing against the back of John's, the hot line of his exposed dick twitching against the inside of John's clothed thigh. He grasped both of John's arms at the wrist and twisted them up against his back, both John's skinny wrists fitting in one hand, as he bent over John's arched back.

"You remember what I said last time that I was gonna do to you, don't you, John?" Arthur breathed hotly against his cheek, his other hand sliding down John's belly to pop open his jeans.

"Y-Yeah," John breathed shakily, groaning loudly when Arthur's hand slid inside his drawers.

"C'mon, John," Arthur cajoled, sliding his hand in further, hand trapped in tight the fabric, fingers squeezing around John's balls in something that was more a warning than a caress, "what did I say I would do?"

"Said—ah—y'were gonna fuck me," John gasped, shuddering, but he wasn't sure if it was fear or anticipation.

"Mm," Arthur hummed, kneeling up to yank John's trousers down his thighs, "that was certainly _part_ of what I said."

He pulled away for a moment, releasing John's hands. John could hear the snap of Arthur's suspenders as he pulled them off his shoulders—John pushed himself up on his hands slightly and glanced over his shoulder, blearily, to see Arthur shoving his trousers down just enough to fully free his cock, stroking his hand over the enormous length of it. John knew _intimately_ how big Arthur's dick was, but he'd never before considered it going—

"Arthur," John breathed, voice tremulous, "I don't think—"

"Good, no one asked you to," Arthur cut him off, and pushed the pad of his thumb up against John's asshole, the calloused digit coated in something slick. John huffed out a breath, instinctively jerked away, but the pants around his thighs hobbled him, and instead he fell flat on his front, dick grinding against the coarse groundsheet, flushing hotly at the sound of Arthur laughing above him.

"You really are a goddamn mess, aren't you?" Arthur chuckled, as he knelt back to yank John's boots off his feet, tossing them somewhere behind him. John went to flip over and Arthur let him, green eyes dark when John collapsed onto his back, kicking his pants and drawers down off his legs. "Said I wanted you on your knees, John," Arthur said mildly, his hand stroking along his own in dick, the slick on his fingers making it shiny and wet. The sight made John's own prick jerk, made his goddamn mouth water.

"Then let me suck your dick," John offered.

Arthur cocked his head, as if considering, and then put one hand on the soft skin of John's inner thigh and pinched _hard_ , twisting.

John gasped, tried to force his knees together, but Arthur was already between them, pinching again, higher, as he licked a long slow stripe up the underside of John's cock. John writhed, the sheet twisting up under him, as Arthur sucked the tip of his dick into his mouth, and at the same time, pushed one long, slick finger up inside of him in a single twisting grind.

"I told you what I wanted, John," Arthur said, the head of John's cock bouncing against his bottom lip as he spoke, the finger in John's ass stroking in a way that made him clench his knees around Arthur's shoulders, not pain but _pressure_. "You afraid it's gonna _hurt_? 'Cause that don't much sound like you. Nah," Arthur pushed a second finger up into John, twisting them in and out, whatever slick he had on them making the glide almost effortless, "I think you're afraid of how much you're gonna fucking _love_ it."

John was gasping desperately for breath but still couldn't seem to get enough, chest heaving, dizzy with it. He looked down at Arthur, who had a dark flush across his cheekbones and a look in his eyes that promised violence, and had to suddenly grasp at the base of his twitching dick just to keep from shooting off right across that vicious mouth. "Arthur, _God_ , I can't—"

"Yeah, all right." Arthur finally sounded breathless himself, pulling John's legs up around his ribs as he knelt up, setting the head of his dick against John's twitching hole. "If—if you—"

John grabbed the short hair at the base of Arthur's skull, pulling hard. "Just fucking do it, you bastard."

It did hurt. It hurt like fucking fire as Arthur forced himself inside in one long, relentless push, panting like a bellows, his ribcage shuddering against John's thighs, his hands fisted in the sheet on either side of John's head. John gripped at Arthur's biceps, groaning, eyes narrowed to slits, but he couldn't close them, could _miss this_ , the expression on Arthur Morgan's face as he made a place for himself in John's body, John's hole clenching around him like a vice.

They were both panting when Arthur bottomed out, John's every exhale a moan. He wished that Arthur had taken off his shirt so that John could see the bruises he was sure to leave, so that he could claw welts onto the tanned skin. Arthur leaned down and mouthed at John's neck almost gently, all lips and tongue, as John trembled around him, heels jerking against Arthur's back.

"Y'all right, sweetheart?" Arthur cooed against his ear, tucking a hand around the side of his neck.

John had to breathe deep a long moment, just to have enough air to speak.

"Who the fuck you callin' _sweetheart_?"

Arthur reared back in an instant, John feeling a strange pleasure at his look of surprise, and then that barely-leashed violence flashed across Arthur's green gaze. He pulled his hips back maybe half an inch and then slammed back in.

John _howled_.

His whole body arched like a live wire as Arthur started a shallow, forceful rhythm, every few thrusts catching up against a place that made John's vision swim, made his thighs tremble against Arthur's sides. Arthur grunted lowly with every push, a short punch of breath, his teeth clenched against any other noise, but John had none of his self-restraint, gasping out wet moans as he twisted his fingers into the back of Arthur's shirt, almost screaming when Arthur finally put a hand on his dick, pulling hard.

It wasn't long after that, John's whole body clenching when he came, hand gripping so tight at Arthur's hair that he thought he felt a few strands come loose in his fist. Arthur cursed wildly and fucked him through it, burying his face in John's neck as John whined, oversensitive, clawing at Arthur's back, "C'mon, you son of a bitch—"

It took Arthur a long time to catch his breath after he came. John felt oddly proud.

John keened when Arthur finally slid out of him, his hole feeling puffy and swollen, feeling _used_ in the most obscene possible way, and his legs fell apart, boneless, when Arthur unlocked them from around himself.

"John?" Arthur said, his voice sounding strange, looming over John in the lantern light, and it wasn't until Arthur swept his thumb across John's cheek that he realized that the stickiness under his eyes was _tears_. "Jesus, John, are you—" Arthur started, sounding on the verge of panic, so John yanked him down and kissed him, kissed Arthur the way Arthur always kissed John, all tongue and teeth.

"Shut up, Morgan," he muttered against Arthur's jaw, churlishly, as he settled Arthur's heavy frame on top of him, "you're ruining it."

 


End file.
